


i'll make the world safe and sound for you

by gracedbybattle



Series: unimaginable light [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 5+1 Things, Baby Ezra Bridger, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Kanan Jarrus, Sick Ezra Bridger, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracedbybattle/pseuds/gracedbybattle
Summary: Five times Kanan worried about Ezra, and one time Ezra was worried about Kanan.Baby!Ezra AU.
Relationships: Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus, Depa Billaba & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ezra Bridger & Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Series: unimaginable light [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699963
Comments: 34
Kudos: 152
Collections: StarWarsRebels





	1. Sick

Moments in Kanan’s life tend to be postmarked with experiences. The first time he wielded a ‘saber, meeting Master Depa, the scar on his arm from the Third Battle of Mygetto. Both the good and the bad are lessons that the Force teaches, Depa says. 

But this one, he could have done without. 

“It’s okay buddy,” he says, voice cracking a little over the wails, wincing at the volume. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

That’s the mantra he’s been repeating to himself for a week now. A week ago, everything was quiet and peaceful in their apartment. There were no angry babies, no spiking fevers, no exhausted parents or frayed nerves. 

That all changed when a case of Idolian fever made its way to Coruscant from a transport and exploded into an epidemic that has now swept through even the Jedi Temple. It’s inconspicuous incubation meant that many were infected before anyone realized it. A good portion of the city has it now, though the spread is starting to abate. 

Kanan and Hera have been blessedly spared, but Ezra picks up everything. Three months is a vulnerable age, and as part of a more susceptible infant group, Ezra is a high-risk for anything that passes through the city. Really, it was only a matter of time. 

Babies, Kanan and Hera have discovered, do not suffer in silence. 

Idolian fever can be serious, but when caught early it isn’t typically fatal. Mainly it makes the infected miserable, a combination of high fever, body aches, exhaustion and occasionally mild nausea.

Blessedly, they have been spared the nausea with Ezra. At least, so far. 

“I know it’s awful, '' he says in as soothing voice as he can manage. The sleep deprivation is catching up to him too. He’s barely slept the last few days. He and Hera have been splitting the time between them, but he can hardly sleep no matter how tired he feels. Not when he lays in bed and can still hear his wailing son through the walls. “It’ll be okay,” he repeats.

Ezra doesn’t pay him any mind. He continues to squall, thrashing as much as an undersized four month old can in their makeshift bath. He’s been cycling through exhausted and upset, confused as to why he’s suddenly so miserable and no one to make him understand that it will pass.

His skin is still flushed red, the coolness of the water hasn’t yet had a chance to cool it. Water sloshes over the basin, soaking the front of Kana’s sleep tunic and spilling to the floor. Ezra’s fever has been rising for the past two days, leaving his skin a tiny vector of heat. It’s a common symptom of the fever, but dangerous if left unattended.

Master Vos only wants the infant brought into the medcenter as a last resort, given he’s likely to pick up something else from the other patients. There have been an excess of patients recently, many of them stricken with the same fever. It would be a miracle if Ezra didn’t pick up something else just from being in the same room. 

When it spiked again this afternoon, he’d instructed Kanan to give Ezra an ice bath to help break the fever as a last resort. If this doesn’t work, they’re going to have to go in. Ezra, little arms flailing furiously, isn’t privy to that ultimatum and is loudly protesting this form of treatment. 

Kanan grits his teeth and keeps a firm grip on his squirming baby. He wishes Hera were here to help, but so many of the Republic pilots have become ill that she’s working additional hours to fill in. Even Chopper is gone off with Hera, leaving Kanan and Ezra to themselves.

It’s worked out well in a strange sort of way. With the virus spreading through the Temple, most of Kanan’s normal duties have been suspended. He’s free to be here. 

“We gotta do this buddy,” he sighs. Ezra is staring up at him, big blue eyes full of tears as he pauses screaming to breath for a moment. Kanan feels nothing but guilt looking at him. He knows what they’re doing is necessary, it isn’t intentionally cruel, but Ezra doesn’t know that. He is incapable of comprehending that his father is trying to protect him, not punish him. 

Kanan feels sick at the idea. 

The treatment is beginning to work, he presses a hand to Ezra’s forehead and finds it significantly cooled. Maybe they will be on the tail end of this thing after all. 

He brushes through the wet strands of baby hair, hoping the touch will soothe his son. Ezra quiets for a second under his touch, sniffling. He stares up at his dad, blue eyes still filled with tears. He holds Kanan’s gaze for a moment, but the moment breaks and his sobbing continues. 

Kanan fortifies his emotions and reaches for a calmness he doesn’t currently feel, hadn’t felt in days since Ezra first became sick, pushing through the torrent of emotions to find Ezra’s Force signature. It’s a bright ball of tension, sparking like a fire. He wraps his own around the baby’s, trying to infuse as much love and care as he can into their connection. 

As first Ezra cries even harder, his wails pitching against the walls of the apartment and making Kanan’s ears ring. He winces and steadies himself, continuing to stroke a hand over Ezra’s head and starting humming a slow song. A Rylothian lullaby that Hera sings, one of his favorites. Kanan’s Ryloth is rusty at best and he doesn’t remember all the words, but the tune is familiar. 

He keeps it up as he lifts the baby from the water, wrapping him in the softest blanket he can find. Whenever Kanan himself is sick, sensory overload can be overwhelming and coarse fabric is a torture against his skin. He and Hera have been doing their best to keep Ezra as comfortable as possible, and that includes the indulgence of a few softer, expensive blankets.

Ezra’s cries are finally tapering off, fading into whimpers as Kanan wipes him dry, wrapping him snug against his chest. His Force signature is wrapping back around Kanan’s and he feels calmer, the sparks abating. 

Kanan rests a hand against the small forehead and signs in relief. “Thank the Force,” he whispers at the feel of the lowered temperature. Maybe a visit to the medcenter won’t be necessary and this whole awful mess will soon be a distant memory. 

He settles Ezra against a pile of blankets on the counter, wrangling him into sleep clothes as quickly as he can. The baby tries to start up his cries anew, but exhaustion is winning out. His eyes are drooping, a large yawn showing off his pink little gums. “Finally wearing down huh,” he mutters, bringing the small body up to cradle against his shoulder. 

“Let’s see if we can get some rest,” he mutters, cupping the back of Ezra’s head and rubbing a thumb across it in a steady motion. He resumes humming the lullaby, swaying a gentle side to side while slowing sauntering through the hallway towards the bedroom. 

He dims the light in the room with a single thought, pulls the covers back and settles into bed without missing a beat. The covers pull back over the two of them, cool and comfortable, and he relaxes against the pillows. 

For the last month, Ezra has been learning to sleep in his own room, but Kanan has been cheating and letting him sleep with himself and Hera while he’s ill. The fear for their sick child is still a new emotion, something sharp and anxious. They both feel better with him between them.

“Mom’ll be back soon,” he promises softly, as he reaches the end of the tune and Ezra whines in protest. “She can remember all the words.” He mentally prods back through their connection, still sending a steady stream of comforting thoughts. Ezra’s signature is calmer now, almost normal, and his breathing is evening out, his weight becoming heavier in Kanan’s arms. 

“That’s it,” he sighs, relief relaxing his frame a few inches in a slump. “That’s it,” he whispers, little more than a breathy exhale. Ezra snuffles against him, burying his head further into the junction of Kanan’s neck and shoulder. He sighs as he settles, a tiny sound that’s wet and tired. 

The noise nearly splits a crack down Kanan’s heart. 

He feels like a frayed wire. This last week has taxed his physical and emotional strength in a way different than any test as a Jedi has. To watch his child suffer, to know there’s nothing the can do, is a powerless feeling he cannot describe. 

Ezra finally, finally, relaxes against his chest, dropping into sleep. Kanan turns his head, pressing a soft kiss against Ezra’s head. The skin is noticeably cooler. He exhales a huge, silent breath, the last of worry and stress leaving him in one swoop.

There’s a swelling in his chest that’s almost unbearable, something that could only be love, pouring through his heart. He wonders if it will always feel like this when he looks at his son, an overwhelming devotion and selfless love to this small being. 

He wonders how the Jedi ever got it so wrong, thinking that love was something to be avoided. 

“We’re gonna be okay buddy,” he whispers and for the first time in days, really believes it. “We’re gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of emotions about Kanan, Hera and Ezra and I'm using this quarantine to channel those emotions into fic.


	2. Doubt

Hera slides quietly through the main door, dropping her key card on the counter and shrugging off her captain’s jacket. Chopper rolls behind her, warbling a greeting. 

“Kanan? Ezra?” she calls through the apartment, surprised at the lack of her husband and baby. They spend more time in the common room and kitchenette area than anywhere else. She opens the conservator, mentally calculating the amount of formula that needs to be made up for tonight. Ezra is eating more and more lately. They’re going to need to bump up their stock. 

Chopper situates himself on his corner pad with a distinct click, softly whirling into sleep mode. It’s been a long couple of days, a job into the Hosnian system that dragged on for far longer than it should have.

There’s a container of leftovers on the counter, no doubt left by Kanan. She flicks the cover off the top and takes a moment to just inhale before digging in. It’s delicious, all of Kanan’s made meals are, and she’s ravenous. Protein bars have gotten her through the day, but they can’t compare to this. 

It’s also still warm, so he can’t be too far. She scarfs it down in record time and resolves to clean up later. Right now, she wants to get out of her flight clothes, see her family and just rest. 

“Kanan?” she calls again, a little louder as she steps into the hallway, a bit concerned. It’s not that late yet. Ezra is probably down for the night, but her husband shouldn’t be.

“Hera? I’m here,” he calls back and her anxiety dissipates into curiosity. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, the question hanging in the air. 

“I’m fine, must not have heard you when you came in,” he responds, which really gets her attention. If he’s distracted enough to miss that, what exactly is he up to? “In here,” he continues, which means he’s in Ezra’s room instead of their bedroom. 

She steps into their baby’s room and her gaze goes straight to the crib. Ezra is sleeping soundly on his back in a light yellow sleep jumper, draped in his favorite blue blanket. He looks peaceful. Kanan is sitting in the chair by his bed, chin propped in his hand and hunched over, staring at their son. He doesn’t look troubled exactly, but he’s not at ease. Something is playing at the back of his mind. 

He sees her and straightens, the tension in his face melting into a soft, intimate smile. “Hey,” he says in that low gravelly voice that she loves so much. He reaches out a hand. “I’m glad you’re back. How was it?”

“Oh, the usual,” she smiles at him in turn, taking his hand. She leans down to greet him with a kiss and then folds against his side, half kneeling on the floor. “More rambling politicians I could do without.”

Kanan chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest. He’s familiar with her disdain for the political theater. He folds her hand within his larger one, rubbing a thumb across the top of her knuckles. “How’s Chop?”

It warms her heart a little to hear him ask after her droid, the same as if he was another member of the family. “He’s fine, grumpy as always. Plugged into the doc and running diagnostics as we speak.”

She leans against him a more, sinking to the floor and resting her head against his knee. He releases her hand and re-purposes his arm around her shoulders, one hand stroking against her back. 

“I was working on some meditation exercises,” he says softly. “That’s probably why I didn’t hear you.” She nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t ask more, even though she is curious.

Meditation is usually what Kanan turns to for Jedi matters. She knows that he and Depa have been discussing the force bond between Kanan and Ezra lately, contemplating the boundaries of their connection. 

“How’s Ezra?” she asks, her eyes steadily trained on the crib. Ezra has more or less been over his bout of Idolian fever for over seven rotations, but they’ve been worried he might fall back into some form of illness. Relapse of the fever is common, particularly in small children 

“Happy to have his mom home,” he replies without a beat, sidestepping her question neatly. 

“Kanan.”

“I’m serious!” he protests. “We’re both happy to have you home,” he continues, sobering some and any sternness she feels fades immediately. “We missed you.”

“I missed you both,” she admits, snaking an arm around his calf just to have another point of contact. He's a firm pillar of warmth, steady and solid, and she wants to melt into him. A beat of silence passes. 

“How has Ezra been while I’ve been gone?” she amends. 

“Good,” Kanan answers without hesitation. “No fever. I think we’re really over it.” 

She releases a breath in relief that she didn’t even know she was holding. “That’s good,” she says, feeling like a weight has lifted off her chest. “I’ve been worried.”

“Me too,” he admits. They sit in silence for a moment, the only sounds being Ezra’s soft breathing and the whoosh of recycled air overhead. Kanan doesn’t say a word, but she can’t help but feel that he’s still pensive about something. She pulls back to study the worried creases in his face and frowns. 

“What else were you up to in here?” she asks. The  _ what were you so distracted by that you didn’t hear me come in  _ goes unsaid, but she’s pretty sure he hears it all the same. They know each other well enough.

His excuse of mediation is flippant, at best. There are a lot of words to describe Kanan and distracted is not one of them. 

“I told you I was meditating.”

“Which you could be doing in our room, on the mat you have specifically for meditation,” she adds. “What’s up?

He presses his mouth shut to a hard line and stares ahead, stubborn. Sometimes, Kanan has a tendency to stew in his own thoughts, though he’s fairly easy for her to fish out. He wants to talk, he usually wants to talk specifically to her, but he doesn’t like to feel as though he’s burdening someone else with his problems.

She waits, hoping he’ll crack quickly and she won’t have to coax it out of him later. He surprises her by breaking the silence first. His eyes are still trained on Ezra sleeping. 

“I didn't want to leave him,” he admits and she suspected as much.

Hera frowns. “But he’s fine, love. The healer said he’s almost back to normal and his appetite is picking back up. He’s going to eat us out of house and home soon,” she tries for a little humor, hoping to bring him out of his thoughts.

“I know, I just. He’s still so small,” Kanan practicality whispers and the sudden vulnerability in his voice surprises her. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, dark loose hair falling like a curtain around his head. He scrubs at his face for a moment then raises his eyes to meet hers. “And he was so sick, not long ago. Sometimes, I feel like I’m going to turn around and he's going to stop breathing.”

This shudder of confidence has been building since Ezra became sick, she suspects. It was hard to see their normally cheerful and happy child so upset, little face red and swollen from tears. It ate at her to be away when it was bad, when the fever was at its highest. She knows how stressed Kanan was. It was the first time either of them had to deal with a seriously sick infant and Ezra is still so young. 

“What’re we doing here Hera? Do we know what we’re doing?”

“Of course not,” she turns to face him, kneeling on the floor and pulls both his hands from his eyes, cupping them in her own. “Hey,” she says softly, wanting his attention solely on her. She waits until he meets her eyes before continuing. 

“We don’t know what we’re doing and that’s normal. Nobody does. We’re figuring it out as we go and we’re doing okay.” Kanan’s gaze doesn’t waver. He nods. 

“This was hard,” she continues. “It was a hard moment, but we got through it. You got him through it. He’s okay.” 

Kanan sighs, long and hard and leans into her. She rests her forehead against his. “I wish I had been here,” she admits and can feel Kanan’s head shake against hers. 

“Don’t say that, it’s not your fault.”

“Not yours either,” she replies and Kanan pulls apart so he can bring her into his arms, strong and solid. He wraps around her, tucks her head under his own and squeezes her to him.

“I love you,” he says and still her heart skips a beat when he says it. It doesn’t get old, no matter how many times she hears it. “And I love him. So much that I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I know,” she says because she does. More than she knows anything else. “And I love you both.”

“I just want to get it right,” he admits in a voice that sounds small. Like it’s hard to let the words out. Like she’s the only one he trusts with this.

“You are,” she reassures him, strength layered in her voice. “You, Kanan Jarrus, are the best man I know.” He huffs a laugh and she reaches up to cup his face in her hands, gentle but strong.

“This is our family. Ours,” she says with conviction. “Yes, he’s little, but he’s not breakable. He’s strong, like you are.”

“Like  _ you  _ are,” he corrects and she smiles. “You’re the strongest woman I know.” 

“Like both of us,” she concedes. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else but you.” He laughs softly at that. “Me either,” he says and stares at her for a second, with those beautiful eyes she loves so much. 

“You must be exhausted,” he says and the moment passes. “C’mon, let's get out of here before we wake him up.”

She wonders if she should press, to make sure he understands the truth behind her words. That she believes in them, believes in him. But his eyes are calm now, filled with soft affection. He seems lighter, already more grounded, as though just having her here with them is enough to unburden his soul. Maybe it is. 

She lets him tug to her feet and he presses a kiss to her brow in one fluid gesture. It’s so tender that her heart feels like it might fly out of her chest. She closes her eyes against the flood of emotion and laces their fingers together, squeezing his hand against hers. 

“Lets,” she agrees and tugs him out the door. 

She’s so happy to be home. 


	3. Lost

Hera steps out into the common room from the hallway, still blinking the sleep from her eyes and stops dead. She takes in the sight of the room and just stares. 

Their normally immaculate little area is...haphazard is putting it kindly. The furniture is pushed out of its usual arrangement, pillows and cushions upturned, clothes dumped from a basket and strew over the floor. 

“It looks like a bomb went off in here.”

Kanan pops up from behind the couch at the sound of her voice, looking all the world like a wide eyed porg. They stare at one another for a beat. “What’re you doing back there?” she asks, more confused than anything. 

“I can’t find Ezra’s blanket.”

She blinks. “What?”

“His blue blanket,” Kanan repeats, resuming his rummaging through the cushions. “We had it yesterday, you know the one he loves, but I haven’t seen it since. I don’t know where it went.”

Hera purses her lips, racking her brain to think of the last place she saw the thing. She can’t come up with anything. Kanan’s frantic searching makes sense now, Ezra is incredibly fond of the blue baby blanket they first brought him back from the medcenter in. It’s one of the nicer blankets they have, soft and fuzzy, and he latches onto it every night to go to sleep. 

She sighs and joins Kanan on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he asks her. 

“Helping you look,” she says peering behind the corner chair and other furniture against the wall. 

Together, they comb nearly the entire apartment from top to bottom. It’s not in the ‘fresher, not caught behind their bed, left unattended in the kitchen, or out on the balcony. It isn’t hanging out to dry on the line, thrown in with the rest of their garments for cleaning, or even kicked under a table. It isn’t in their apartment at all. 

Feeling a little defeated, she wipes her hand from the behind the cabinet and straightens up. “I need a cup of caf if we’re going to keep this up.”

Kanan agrees wordlessly, following her into the kitchenette and mulling over other places to look in his head. He sits at the counter while she pulls out two mugs and starts the caf machine. The machine is practically an antique and is sure to stop working soon. But it was a present from her father when she and Kanan were married and she’s loath to get rid of it until it actually gives out. 

She makes them both a cup, dark the way Kanan likes it, and passes it to him. Pulls up another chair next to him and just takes it in, breathing the aroma and taste, letting it warm her body. Kanan taps a line on his mug, clearly lost in thought. 

Hera presses a hand against his shoulder, moving up his neck to scratch at the short hair at the base of his head. He sighs, relaxing against her touch. “Now, where is the last place we had it?” she asks, bringing up her cup for another sip. 

Kanan groans. “I don’t know. Yesterday afternoon maybe? On the floor when he was playing? I can’t remember.”

“Can’t you just,” she takes her hand away from his neck to wave at the side of her head. “Search the Force for it?”

Kanan stares at her balefully. “It’s a blanket, Hera. Not a sentient being.”

She shrugs. “Had to ask.”

“Nope,” he says, leaning against the counter to bury his head in his arms. “I have no idea where the blasted thing is and he’s going to have a fit.”

She hums thoughtfully. “He went down easy enough last night without it.”

“That’s because he was already asleep before I put him to bed,” Kanan points out without raising his head. 

_ Ah.  _ “Well.” She thinks for a moment and comes up empty. “We’ll just have to find it then.”

“How?” Kanan asks, raising his head just to look at her and gesture around the room. “We’ve looked everywhere!”

She rolls her eyes, reaching down to pluck his empty mug away and place a kiss to his forehead. “I think the two of us can find one baby blanket, love. No matter where it may have wandered off to.” 

Chopper rolls into their space, having been absent all morning and no doubt altered to their discussion. “Morning Chop,” she says, reaching for the caf machine. He warbles a greeting and something that sounds like a question. 

“No, Kanan did not lose Ezra’s blanket. It’s just misplaced,” Hera answers him, pouring them both another cup and pushing Kanan’s to him. Chopper beeps something back that sounds accusatory. 

Head still on the counter, Kanan points a finger in the droid's direction without looking. “Don’t you start.”

Hera laughs and Chopper sputters in indignation at the same time that the door chimes. Kanan raises his head to give Hera a confused look. It’s still early. “Are we expecting company?”

“Not that I know of,” she frowns and goes to answer it, Chopper at her heels. Chopper may give Kanan as much grief as he can handle, but he won’t let anyone in their apartment without approval. Anyone who tries is typically treated to a nice electrical shock. It’s like having their own personal security system on wheels. 

Before he can follow that line of thought very long, he hears the door swish open and a familiar voice. “Good morning Hera.”

_ Ahsoka Tano. _

He can’t help but smile. Ahsoka is always welcome in their family. Even Chopper is fond of her, which says a lot. Satisfied. he rises from his chair and starts pulling things out to begin breakfast. They have enough for three. 

“Hello Kanan,” Ahoska says as she, Hera and Chopper turn the corner, cheerful as ever while Hera sinks back into her seat.

Ahsoka has a presence that is almost immediately soothing to him. Kind and funny, with a sharp wit that speaks of Obi-Wan Kenobi but a tempered wildness that speaks of Anakin Skywalker. She was there, that fateful date in the medcenter that brought him and Ezra together. Always ready with a friendly word or a quick spar, she’s one of their closest friends.

“Ahsoka, what brings you here?” he greets in turn, rummaging around for the spice root he knows is in the drawer. “Want to hang around for something to eat? We’ll have plenty.”

“Please stay,” Hera interjects before Ahsoka can respond. “We haven’t seen you lately. We’d love for you to stick around.”

They both have known Ahsoka long enough to know that she will always refuse first out of single courtesy and politeness. Something Kanan guesses that she picked up around Obi-Wan. He’s the same way. 

“Besides,” Hera adds, leaning in cospiratorily. “Kanan brought home a fresh shipment of meilooruns yesterday.”

Ahsoka raises a brow, settling next to Hera to watch Kanan cook. Meilooruns are rare to come by on Coruscant, but they are even more exceptionally rare to get within season. “Well in that case, I think I can stick around.”

“Kanan’s great at the market,” Hera continues. “He’s always coming back with something special.”

Kanan grins at the two of them. There's an old spark in his eyes, mischievous and flirty, the way he used to look when they first met. “Nothing but the best for you, dear.”

Hera rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to soften me up to get the baby first this morning?”

“Maybe.”

“Rascal,” Hera groans but she’s smiling. Ahsoka stares between the two of them, bemused. 

“Speaking of which,” Ahsoka says like she’s forgotten something. She reaches into her pack, a well-worn leather satchel that hangs across her shoulder. “I actually came by to drop off this,” and places Ezra’s missing blue blanket on the counter. 

Kanan stares in disbelief. “We've been looking for that all morning! Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. Obi-Wan did,” Ahsoka says, folding the garment together and handing it over to Hera. “He stopped by the medcenter to see Bant yesterday and it must have been left there after Ezra’s appointment. He thought he might be missing it. I was headed this way for a meeting with Senator Organa later and offered to drop it by.” She smiles. “I thought Ezra might be missing it.”

“You have no idea,” Kanan shakes his head. “You are a miracle. I owe Master Kenobi a bottle of Corellian ale. Here,” he fetches another cup, plucking it from the drying rack with the Force and floating it through the air towards the machine. The cup settles in front of the caf machine and he reaches for it absentmindedly, pouring another cup.

“Really?” Ahsoka asks, accepting a cup of caf from Kanan. She wraps both hands around it and settles back deeper in her chair. “I should’ve claimed to have found it myself then.”

Kanan laughs in relief. “I think we might spring for more than one bottle.” 

As though he can hear them talking about them, a noise starts from the back of the apartment, the telltale sounds of a baby fussing as it wakes. “And there he is, right on schedule.” Kanan steps around the counter, fetching the blanket from Hera’s lap. “I’ll get him. Just make sure breakfast doesn’t burn while I’m gone.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Hera mock salutes as he disappears into the hall. She looks over at Ahsoka who is obviously trying not to chuckle. 

“Kanan worries,” she says like Ahsoka doesn’t already know. “I thought he was going to tear the plaster off the walls looking for it this morning.”

Ahsoka laughs at the mental image, her voice as clear and bright as a bell. “I can only imagine.” They sit for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of Kanan talking to the baby in the background. “How do you think he’s going to handle it when Ezra’s starting walking?”

“Force above,” Hera laughs. “We may not survive such an event.”

“He’s a good father,” Ahsoka says, voice resolute. Her voice is firm, but a touch faraway, like she’s thinking of Kanan and someone else at the same time. 

“Yes,” Hera says, as Kanan brings Ezra out to join them. The baby is wrapped in his blue blanket, one corner caught in his hand. Their son's eyes are still sleepy, but bright and happy. Kanan has him propped on his hip and Ezra reaches forward to grab his beard, giggling when Kanan blows a soft puff of air on his face, enough to make his dark hair dance. “He is.”


	4. Growth

The kettle is boiling way over the pot before Kanan even realizes it. “Sithspit,” he curses, turning from the nanowave to the boiling water, turning the heat down and trying to salvage it. 

With the caf machine refusing to work and their tea kettle recently out of commission, he’s resorted to the old fashion method of warming the water to a boil through a fire. It’s an easy task but tedious, and he’s not being as diligent as he should be. 

Ideally, he needs to get Ezra up before Zeb arrives. The Lasat is bringing the schematics to review before the Life Day celebrations. Kashyyyk was a battleground, a volatile war zone for years, but now the planet is being to heal. The Republic is throwing a large celebration there this cycle as a commemoration of Life Day and the anniversary of the end of the Clone War. 

This whole operation is really Zeb’s idea. Kanan is just along for guidance. 

Zeb has been a valuable consultant on the Republic’s payroll since the Clone Wars ended. The assault on Lasan came in the late stages of the war. A member of the honor guard, his heroic actions had saved the royal family by personally infiltrating the droid lines and destroying the tactical droid himself. 

Hera had been there to see it herself, had pulled him out of the front lines once he took a blaster bolt to the side, and they’d been friends even since. He and Kanan had struck up a kinship after being introduced, and they consider him family. Now, they collaborate frequently on missions that the Republic requests Jedi assistance on. 

Lasan and Kashyyyk have always functioned as allies, and Zeb was the one who originally brought the proposal to the Council. Being a close confidant of Hera, and therefore Kanan, was the icing on the jogan cake. 

It really wasn’t that hard of a sale. Yoda has always liked Wookies. 

Right on cue, the door chimes. Kanan groans.

“Chop, can you get that? It’s Zeb,” he calls out and doesn’t wait for a response, making a dash for the nursery. The whining on the other end of the transmitter tells him that Ezra is awake. He doesn’t usually let him sleep in, routine is everything, but they had a rough night last night and he couldn’t get Ezra back down until late. 

Teething has been about as fun an experience as a stun bolt to the face. 

Ezra is awake in his cradle, already crawling and reaching for the side with more fine motor skill than Kanan can ever remember seeing before. He makes a mental note to mention it to Hera later. 

“Hey little man, awake now?” He keeps up a steady stream of soft chatter, lifting Ezra to the table and beginning their morning routine of change and dress. The baby quiets at the attention, sniffling against his father. His breath shutters with an exhale, pressing his forehead into Kana’s shoulder. Kanan shushes him, cradling the small head against his hand. 

He tries to move quickly but efficiently and not startle Ezra with his haste. It’s not Ezra’s fault that he’s feeling overtaxed and extra tired. 

They’ve tried a few remedies to offset his gum discomfort, but nothing seems to be helping yet. 

Ezra starts to whine, that cranky, irritable noise that says he’s hurting again, so Kanan grabs the new chew ring they bought recently on his way back into the kitchen. He places it against the baby’s mouth and Ezra latches on, gnawing in earnest. 

Zeb is sitting at the counter, a full spread of scan docs on the table behind him. 

“Sorry,” Kanan apologies, depositing Ezra in his hover chair and picking through the conservator for a bottle. They’re out of pre-made, so he resorts to mixing the formula himself, scanning the racks for a clean container at the same time. “It’s been a busy morning.”

“Not a problem,” Zeb says. He jerks a shoulder in Chopper’s direction. “Had to convince your rust bucket here to let me in, but we came to an agreement.” 

“Chopper,” Kanan sighs, exasperated. He thought Hera had talked the droid about this sort of thing. “I told you he was coming.” Chopper beeps back a sharp retort, that sounds suspiciously like  _ screening visitors _ . He finishes mixing the rest of Ezra’s formula, pulling a jar from the conservator and floating it into his waiting hand. He screws the top off midair while searching for a spoon. 

Ezra, though he would usually be watching the jar in anticipation of breakfast, is completely focused on Zeb. The Lastat is studying the pad in his hand and hasn’t caught onto being the center of the baby’s attention. It’s a good thing Kanan sat Ezra out of Zeb’s proximity because he can only imagine that Ezra would love nothing more than take a handful of purple fur. Hair is his favorite thing, something Kanan’s ponytail and beard are all too aware of.

“So,” he says, turning with the jar in hand and tucking a cloth around Ezra’s neck. He offers Ezra a spoonful and the baby stares back at him. They haven’t had an overwhelming amount of success introducing him to solids yet. “What’ve you got?”

“I’m not in a hurry,” Zeb answers plainly, staring at the father and son and the spoon held between them. “If you need some time with the kid. Looks like you might have a fight on your hands.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kanan says nonchalantly as Ezra takes one taste of the offered food and clamps his mouth shut.  _ Another one of those days.  _ “I’ve got this. Walk me through the opening ceremonies.”

Zeb looks doubtful but doesn’t protest, eyeing the reluctant baby one more time before jumping into the scheme, explaining the layouts and the posts that they’ve outlined. It’s a good setup, all things considered, and Kanan trusts Zeb to lay the groundwork and absorb all the details. He points out the flaws that he sees, continuing to coax as much breakfast into Ezra as possible. 

He’s mildly successful. Ezra is nothing if not stubborn. 

“Sounds like everything is squared away,” he remarks a bit later when they’re wrapping up. He can’t see any large issues with the plan, which isn’t surprising. Zeb is meticulous. 

“It’s pretty solid,” Zeb admits gruffly. He doesn’t take praise well, always tries to give someone else credit, but he ran the gauntlet on this one himself and Kanan’s not letting him pretend otherwise. 

“Wish Hera could be there,” he admits, ruefully. “Wouldn’t worry about a thing then.”

“Yeah,” Kanan agrees, pulling a cloth to clean Ezra’s face and reaching for the bottle. He and Hera would both be on this detail usually, but it’s Ezra’s first Life Day and he’d lobbied with the Council to get them both off duty for the occasion.

It’s a touch sentimental because Ezra likely won’t really remember it, but he and Hera want to spend this first one together. It’s no surprise, given their lives, that they’ll inevitably spend many important days apart. But not this one. 

“S’not a problem,” Zeb says as though he knows what Kanan is thinking. “We can handle this lot without the two of you. Should be easy enough.”

“With you around, I’m expecting it to be a full on party,” Kanan retorts, falling back into their familiar banter now that the work is done. They’ve been friends so long that it’s easy to tease him, like verbal sparring. 

“Won’t be a party without you around to cause trouble,” Zeb says back, smirking over the large mug of the tea Kanan nearly fried earlier. 

Kanan rolls his eyes. “That mess on Umbara was your fault.”

“That’s not what the report says.”

“I know what the report says,” Kanan says, pulling Ezra from his chair and nestling him in the crook of his arm, bringing the bottle up for him. “Funny, how I wasn’t the one that wrote the report.”

“Curious,” Zeb says.

The next retort is building on the back of his tongue the same time the com on the counter goes off. He levels Zeb with a mock glare. “This isn’t over yet,” and the Lasat just smirks at him. 

He reaches out for the com without even thinking and nearly slips unbalanced for a moment. He grasps at Ezra with both hands before he can pinwheel, rightening himself without as much as a jerk. But he loses his grip on the bottle when he grabs the baby and goes to snatch it out of midair. But it isn’t falling.

Ezra’s hands are grasping the sides, happily suckling away and he’s...he’s holding it. Himself. He’s holding the bottle himself like it’s no big deal, going to town all on his own. 

Force, Kanan hadn’t even noticed.

“Kanan? You alright mate?” Zeb startles him out of his thoughts. He stares at Ezra then back at his friend, mute like speech has been struck from him. “You need a minute?” Zeb looks legitimately concerned, brow furrowed. 

He realizes more time had passed than we was aware of he and he’s still just standing there, dumb struck watching his baby hold his own bottle. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat. Ezra isn’t looking at him, fully concentrated on the task at hand. 

“It’s nothing, it’s,” he can’t bring himself to articulate the roaring in his head because this is ridiculous, this is just life, this is natural. 

Raising a baby is both nothing and everything like he’d imagined. It’s loud, messy, inconvenient, beautiful, perfect, awe-inspiring, all wrapped up together. He reaches out to run a hand through Ezra’s dark hair, still baby soft. 

This moment is precious, it’s grand. It’s Ezra taking another first step, doing something new. But it’s also bitter. He’s teething and now he’s dexterous of all things and he’s getting too big too fast. Where is the time going?

_ One day he won’t need me anymore _ he thinks and he doesn’t know where the thought comes from. Ezra breaks the moment for him by finishing the bottle and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. He winces at the sound it makes, striking and bouncing off the floor, reaching down to retrieve it while Zeb watches. 

“I can go,” Zeb says, starting to gather his docs. “If you need to be alone.” It’s not a judgement, just matter of fact. If Kanan needs to be alone to lose his marbles for a moment, Zeb will let him. He’s a good friend like that. 

“Nah,” he says. “I’m alright. Just needed a second.” He passes a hand over his face and inhales, clutches his son to his chest for a moment and then exhales. He cocks his head towards the outdoor balcony. 

The balcony is probably his favorite spot in the whole apartment. It’s littered with a variety of flora that both he and Hera tend to. She says the fact that they were able to keep all these different plants alive this long proved they were ready for a baby. The sun is shining outside and he could use a breath of fresh air. 

“Come on,” he says, leading the way with Ezra against his side. Friends and family are precious, and if there’s one thing fighting a war taught him, it’s that there is no time like the present to spend with both. “Let’s put this one down to play and you can remind all about what went wrong on Umbara.”


	5. Distance

“You really don’t have to stay,” Depa repeats, shrugging off her robe and chiming the door. 

“I’m aware,” Obi-Wan responds at her side. He is becoming more of himself lately. The shine is returning to his copper hair, though it is streaked with more grey than she can ever remember seeing. The light is back in his eyes, though they are still sad more often than not. But when he smiles at her, it’s genuine. He’s healing, she thinks, a little more each day. 

“It’s a bit late to back out now,” he smiles, motioning to the door they’re standing in front of. “I rather thought that after a long engagement in the Western Region, you might enjoy a bit of company.”

She reaches back to flick the end of one braid over her shoulder. He’s not wrong and she won't lie, even if she does feel guilty to loop him into babysitting. 

It’s no secret that she and Obi-Wan have grown close lately. She has missed him, admittedly, while assisting Plo Koon with the peace negotiations on Jakku. It was a long, drawn out mission, the kind that she finds utterly draining. She doesn’t miss the Clone Wars, but a battlefield with Grey at her back was easier to navigate than wrangling politicians and gangsters. 

“I don’t mind, you know,” Obi-Wan adds quietly. “I’m quite fond of the little one as well.”

“Kanan won’t be gone all night,” she says instead of responding. “He just needs a few hours to meet with the courier, he should be back before the night turns over.” Obi-Wan nods but doesn't comment. 

When Kit Fisto unexpectedly called Kanan for assistance, Depa had happily volunteered to keep Ezra for the night. Kanan has been running point with Kit on his most recent assignment and even though he’s reluctant to leave the baby alone, he’s also stubborn at holding firm on his own obligations. Hera is currently on Alderaan, and isn’t expected back for at least a few more rotations. 

“Just a second!” comes a muffled shout through the door. A few thumps follow, along with what sounds like something clattering against a counter. She raises an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who shrugs in response and steps forward. The door swishes open a moment too quickly and they both stare at the someone on the other side. 

Little Ezra is eight months old and, last Depa had heard, crawling like a fiend. He’s putting his new found talent to use, paddling straight for the door with his little arms working over time. “Ah-gah!” He shrieks in excitement at the sight of them and crosses the threshold, reaching for Depa’s boots while babbling a string of nonsense. 

She can’t help smiling at him.

“Hello little one,” she says, reaching down. Ezra, friendly as ever, lifts his arms and flexes his little fingers, clearly asking to be picked up. She scoops him into her arms and smiles at his sweet face. “Getting into trouble again?” 

“Taking after his father, it would seem,” Obi-Wan says, stepping closer and watching the baby over her shoulder. “He’s gotten bigger, I think.”

“He has,” Depa agrees, bouncing the baby against her side as he grabs for her hair. She hasn’t seen him since before the extended engagement on Jakku and he’s grown. She’s missed him. 

“Ezra!” Kanan’s voice rings out as he hurries around the corner. He straightens at the sight of the two masters and his baby just beyond the door and sags with relief. “There you are, you rascal.”

Ezra squeals at the sight of him, like they’ve been playing a game and he’s been caught. Depa notices, for the first time, that the baby is in two obviously different sets of garments, a soft sleep shirt that looks new and a pair of pants that seem to be stained. 

She raises an eyebrow at her old padawan. 

Kanan rubs the back of his neck, scrubbing a hand through his long, loose hair. 

“I was just getting him ready for bed when he took off. He’s getting faster,” he admits, a stern expression on his face as he steps closer. He stands in front of his old master holding his son and shakes a finger at the infant. “You are trouble.”

Ezra just smiles and says something illegible, “Da-ma-ah,” which Depa recognizes as the way he asks for Kanan and Hera. He stretches his arms out for his dad and whines when he can’t get to him. Kanan’s faux expression melts into a soft smile and he reaches back.

_ Sucker _ , Depa thinks, handing the baby over. 

Kanan gestures and steps back into the apartment, beckoning them inside with Ezra propped against him. Obi-Wan waves her in ahead of himself and she nearly rolls her eyes in teasing at his chivalry. She can’t help but feel a bit touched by his charm, even if she’s grown accustomed to it after all this time. 

“I’ll just finish getting him changed,” Kanan says, disappearing into the hallway with the baby in his arms. “Be right back.” 

Obi-Wan meanders around the common room while Depa takes a moment to look over the outdoor balcony. It’s a cozy little alcove, gazing out at the traffic lanes of the planet. A few rugs line the ground, with chairs and throws set against the stone walls to overlook the terrace. It enjoys a good drenching of sunlight throughout the day, and has become a perfect harbor for a variety of plants. 

Kanan, by nature of being born on the planet, has lived his entire life on Coruscant. Depa gave him his first real plant when he was still a padawan, a small variety of flatleaf native to her home planet of Chalacta.

Somehow, it’s still alive today, little buds blowing lightly in the breeze. It sits in a ceramic pot among Hera’s Rylothian plants, many that Depa can’t name. Mace probably can. She makes a note to ask the next time she sees him. 

She turns her attention away from the outdoor balcony and it’s collection of floral to what Obi-Wan’s doing. He’s stopped by a table displaying a collection of holos in the center of the apartment. There are a variety of images, including a few Depa doesn’t recognize. She moves around the couch to study them with him. 

The first are older, ones of a younger Hera and Kanan. There’s one from Kanan’s knighting ceremony, where both she and Mace are standing beside him. There are a few with other Knights that she’s familiar with, some with Hera’s pilots, at least one with their Lasat friend. Even Chopper is featured in more than one. 

The ones that catch her attention are new ones, mainly one’s that feature Ezra. One must be close to the day that they brought him home. He’s incredibly tiny, blue eyes squinting and barely open, swaddled in the light blue blanket. His fists are balled up and held halfway in the air, like he doesn’t know that they belong to him.

The second that draws her eye is one of Hera, Kanan and Ezra together. Hera is seated with Ezra in her arms.Kanan is standing at her shoulder, an arm around his wife’s shoulders. The baby is asleep and both Kanan and Hera are staring at him, transfixed. The look in her former padawan’s eyes is heartbreakingly soft. 

She’s distracted from her observations by Kanan coming back into the room. “All done,” he mutters, either to himself or the baby, she isn’t sure. He set Ezra down on a padded blanket, a collection of brightly colored toys surrounding him. Ezra is immediately in motion as he hits the floor, collapsing onto his front and crawling determinedly towards the toy furthest away. 

Obi-Wan steps neatly around the table and drops to the floor beside him. Ezra, not the least bit intimidated, crawls right to him and deposits the toy in his lap, staring up at him and babbling away like they can understand each other. 

“Really?” the older Jedi says seriously, as though they are in the midst of a fascinating conversation. “How curious.” He plucks another toy from the ground and shows it to Ezra. “And what do you think of this one?”

“He should be ready to sleep after his last bottle,” Kanan says, breaking her attention away from them. “It’s already prepared in the conservator, you just need to warm it up.”

“We can handle that,” she responds, taking a minute to stare at her old padawan. He’s watching Obi-Wan and Ezra play on the floor, a hand held against the strap of the bag on his shoulder. A look is playing over his face, and she doesn’t need to know him as well as she does to know it’s worry. 

It’s plain to see. 

“He’ll be fine,” she says. 

“I know, I just-” he trails off, watching Ezra sitting up on the floor with his blocks, babbling away as Obi-Wan watches. He stares like he doesn’t want to look away. 

Ezra is still young. Kanan and Hera rotate their schedules to be home as much as possible. They certainly don’t drop their baby off on a whim in the creche while Kanan attends to his assigned duties at the Temple. 

But Ezra is getting older now. His parents have to start returning to their old tasks and adjusting to this new normal.

She places a hand on his shoulder. Touch has always grounded Kanan, even when he was a restless boy. He relaxes under her hand instinctively. She can feel the anxiety rolling in his mind the same way she can feel the tense muscles roll under her hand, apprehension building like a storm. 

She sends a tendril of comfort through their old bond, trying to soothe the worry from his mind. He feels him open to her touch, welcoming her in and for a moment she wraps him in her familiar presence.

She already knows what he’s thinking before he says it.“We’ve hardly left him alone,” Kanan admits.

“I know,” she says. “But it’s good for him.” She waits a beat to make sure her words have the intended effect. “And for you.”

Kanan nods, but he doesn’t say a word, just watching with his mouth pressed in a hard line. He knows she’s right. She squeezes his shoulder once in reassurance and then lets her hand fall.

She can see he wants to reach down and say goodbye, but hesitates, reluctant to break the peace between the baby and Obi-Wan. Ezra is sufficiently distracted, and she hopes he won’t even notice Kanan slipping out the door. If he does, she’s worried they might have a minor meltdown. Better to make this as seamless and smooth an exit as possible.

“Go,” she says, motioning towards the door. “He’s in good hands. And it won’t do to keep Kit and his courier waiting. You’ll be back before the day is done. ”

He hesitates a second but nods. “Yes master. Thank you. For everything.” He spares one last glance at his son on the floor, and then gathers his cloak around him and is gone out the door silently before he can change his mind. 

“Now then, little one,” Depa smiles and joins Ezra and Obi-Wan on the floor. She raises a hand and levitates one of the brightly colored pieces into the air, right into front of Ezra’s nose. He stares for a second in fascination and then lurches forward, laughing when he grabs it. Obi-Wan chuckles and she spares a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, her attention on the baby. 

“Let’s make the most of our time, hmm?”

\-- 

A few hours later, and she and Obi-Wan are both on the couch, Ezra tucked against her shoulder, tuckered out for the night and sleeping peacefully. He had his bottle and crawled what seems like a mile on the floor. Between the two of them, they were able to keep him from sticking anything in his mouth he shouldn’t. 

He had a moment, when he was starting to get sleepy, where he stopped and looked around the apartment and she knew he was looking for Kanan. For the comfort of one of his parents. But she tucked him into his blue blanket and rocked him around the balcony until he settled into a doze. It was easy, all things considered. Easier than she’d imagined, even. 

“He’s a sweet child,” Obi-Wan whispers watching him and she smiles, nodding wordlessly. 

She tucks the baby’s weight against her arm a little more securely, snuggling him against her. Her days in the creche are few and far between now. There’s too much work to be done and an excess of volunteers for the younglings.

The horrors of war have left what remains of the older Order jaded and the innocence of youth has been a balm on that wound. She knows, secretly, that even Mace is no different, even if he’ll only admit it in the right company. 

Besides, she would rather be here. 

“He’s the future we fought for,” he says softly with a tinge of melancholy, the way he sounds when he’s thinking of Anakin. The silence stretches comfortably for a moment and she thinks he’s done.

“They’re worth it,” he amends and she knows he’s thinking of the twins as well. Two bright spots in the Force, the Skywalker twins. They’ll grow up right, around a family that loves them. They’ll never want for love or companionship or care. Neither will Ezra. 

It soothes the old scars in her heart, knowing that no matter how hard fought this future may have been, it was worth it for the right reasons. 

“Yes,” she says, meeting her old friend's eyes and for a moment, allows herself to be less of a Jedi and more of a single person. “They are.”

She leans against Obi-Wan’s side and feels him freeze at first in surprise and then relax. She lets herself melt into him just a little, Ezra’s warm weight in her arms and his soft breathing echoing in her ear. He draws an arm around her shoulder to support her and Ezra, the baby cradled between them. 

She can feel Obi-Wan’s smile on the two of them and she lets one of her own stretch across her face. She thinks about thanking him for coming, for being with her tonight. But she doesn’t want to break the moment or wake the baby. She thinks he knows, all the same. The frustration of Jakku is long gone, and she’s as happy as she can imagine being in a long time. 

“Everything alright?” Obi-Wan asks and she looks up just to meet his blue-green eyes. They’re peaceful. She smiles. 

“Immeasurably.”


	6. Touch

Kanan drops his bag beside the couch, sheds his robe and collapses against the couch with a groan. 

“If I ever see Quilan Vos again, it will be too soon,” he proclaims to the empty room. The older master had offered him a spar, and he should’ve known better. Quilan was tricky, brutal and as unforgiving a sparring partner as any knight Kanan had worked with. He’d been a step too slow and the other man had clipped his left forearm with the training ‘saber. 

It was a superficial burn, would heal within a few rotations with enough bacta, but it was fresh and still smarted under the wrapping the healers had bandaged it in. His sore muscles, not used to such a lively sparring exercise in quite a few months, were making themselves known. 

He’d hit the refresher at the medcenter while getting taken care of, and while the thought of climbing into his bed for a moment of sleep was nice, he didn’t think he was going to make it that far. He grasped at the blanket thrown over the back of the furniture and tugged it around himself. The warmth of the sun shining through the window was flooding the space and making him sleepy. 

_I’ll get up in a minute_ , he thinks before closing his eyes and dropping off. 

\--

Juggling a wiggly baby and dinner in only two arms can be a perilous situation, but Hera manages. Chopper whirls behind her, his little droid arms loaded down with as much as he could carry, sliding the door open for them. She loves getting out on the quiet days and running errands with Ezra. He is such a happy, cheerful child and exceptionally friendly. Kanan was occupied at the Temple all day, so she’d taken today as one for herself and the baby. They picked up dinner on the way in, the spiced noodles place that Kanan secretly likes so much. 

He’s been working so hard, so tirelessly since they brought Ezra into their lives, to keep up with their family and continue with his duties at the Temple as much as possible. She knows he’s tired. No need for him to cook for them tonight. 

She gingerly sets their dinner on the counter, careful not to spill anything inside. Previous experience says that the packing that they use is not as sturdy as it looks. 

“Ba-ba-ba,” Ezra coos in her arms, grasping to be set free. 

“Okay, okay,” she re-situates him in her arms, scanning the floor for any hazards and places him down. He immediately takes to his hands and knees, crawling for the common room area. 

“Chop, watch him. I’m going to put these things away, okay?” she orders, relieving the droid of his burden. Chopper warbles an affirmative at her, and faithfully follows the crawling baby. She can’t say she thought that Chopper would adapt quite so well to their new baby, but wonders never cease. He’s a fantastic nanny. 

She throws dinner onto the warming plate and quickly stows the rest of the supplies away. Kanan should be home soon and she wants it to stay as fresh for as long as it can. Ezra’s squeals from around the corner and she goes to investigate. 

“What’ve you found?” she smiles, turning the corner and stopping at the sight in front of her. Kanan is passed out along the couch, a blanket thrown over the tunic he hasn’t changed out of, hair askew and breathing soundly. He’s deeply asleep, chest rising and falling with a rhythm. 

Ezra is on the floor, crawling determinedly to his father and she swoops in to stop him. “Shhh,” she hushes as he protests in her arms. “We don’t want to wake him up.” 

Unperturbed, he whines, staring at her for the second and refocusing on Kanan. 

She and Ezra are close, as close as any mother and son related by blood. He looks to her for comfort, for safety and security. He looks at her with trust. 

But the bond he and Kanan have is different. It goes deeper, on a more spiritual level than anything she has ever seen before. She never hesitated that day in the medcenter because she knew. The moment she saw that look in Kanan’s eye, cradling a baby she'd never seen before, she knew what it meant. 

Chopper trills at her in question and she nods, “I got him, thanks Chop,” and he whirls away back towards the kitchenette. 

A glance at the chrono tells her that it's already past time for them all to eat, so maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea to wake Kanan. If he sleeps much later, he might not be able to sleep tonight. 

“Okay,” she relents, watching Ezra watch Kanan sleep. He kicks his little legs, almost jumping out of her arms. She sets him against Kanan’s side with the back of the couch behind him and sets on the edge to watch, a small smile on her face. 

Ezra crawls along his dad’s side, but instead of going for his face or his hair like she expects, he grabs at the left arm thrown over his stomach. She frowns as the sleeve falls back. 

Kanan’s forearm is recently bandaged. The material is stark white against his tan skin and obviously new. The area smells medical, like bacta and she wonders what on earth he could have possibly gotten into between the Temple and here to warrant such a dressing. 

She’s not the only one wondering. 

Ezra is fixated on the bandage, little hands patting it incessantly, and she goes to pull his hands away before he disturbs the material and he surprises her by protesting with a cry. 

“Hey, what’s that about?” she asks, pulling his hands back away only for him to reach again. She frowns. But he doesn’t look away, not even when she tries to catch his attention a stuffed loth-cat, his favorite toy. She pulls his hands away again, barricading them with her own and he outright cries, tears swarming his eyes. 

Mystified, she goes to pull him off Kanan at the same time her husband shifts, starling awake at the noise. Kanan goes from sleep to blinking awake in a half second, immediately reaching for Ezra without even realizing it. Hera can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at her mouth because even half asleep, he reaches for their son, puts his hands around him and makes sure he’s safe. 

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, already sitting up and bringing Ezra into his arms. Ezra reaches for him and he pulls him against his chest. “What’s wrong buddy?” he asks, turning to look at Hera. His voice is low and full of gravel with sleep and his eyes are questioning. 

“Sorry,” Hera apologies. Rather than explain their situation, she motions at his arm. “What did you do to yourself?” 

“What?” Kanan seems genuinely confused and then follows her hand. “Oh.” He shakes his head, bemused. “Just a ‘saber burn. Vos caught me when we were sparring earlier. It’s fine.”

“Oh,” she responds with a little relief. That’s happened before. Those injuries don’t tend to linger. 

“Hey, what’s the deal?” he asks and he’s not talking to her. Erza’s stopped crying but is reaching back for the bandage, grunting with the effort. His little hands are flexing. “Ach, ach,” he whines, clearly a preamble to start the tears again.

Kanan shoots her a questioning look and she just shrugs. “Okay,” he says and relents and lets Ezra play at the bandage again. He pats around it without any discretion but Kanan doesn’t flinch. He’s watching, looking for something she realizes, but she doesn’t know what. They watch in silence for a moment as Ezra investigates the length of the wrap.

Ezra, seemingly satisfied with whatever he’s found, abandons the arm and makes a beeline for Kanan’s hair. He’s always going for Kanan’s ponytail and he absolutely loves poor Depa’s braids. He hasn’t fostered the same fixation onto her lekku. Not for the first time, she’s grateful to be hairless. 

Kanan chuckles softly, picking him up and lifting him before he can make a grab for the strands.

“Don’t worry about me, little man,” he smiles at their baby, holding them up so they’re level, eye to eye. “I’m fine. Dad’s seen way worse than this.” He brings their foreheads together and blows softly on the baby’s face. Ezra laughs, clapping his hands together, sufficiently distracted and for the moment, the whole thing is forgotten. 

A while later, when Ezra has had his supper and they’re both tucked into their bowls of dinner, Hera broaches the subject again. “Any idea what that was about?” She waves her fork, first at his arm, then at the baby playing on the floor. Kanan shrugs. He’s changed back into his casual, comfortable clothes, and the short sleeves leave his bandaged forearm exposed.

“No idea,” he says, shoveling in another forkful of noodles. 

“Ezra seemed like he was worried about it,” Hera says because she’s thinking it and Kanan is too. Her husband doesn’t shrug off her concern. He nods. “He did.” He meets her eyes and takes in another mouthful. She looks at him, a little doubtful. 

“He’s a baby, Kanan.”

“He’s Force sensitive.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” he huffs, setting the empty container down. Ezra is starting to droop, eyelids growing heavy with the telltale sign that he’s close to being ready for bed. He slumps willingly into Kanan’s arms as he picks him up off the floor. Kanan goes to settle him into bed and Hera finishes cleaning up before joining him in their bedroom. They go about their own separate routines before she brings it up again. 

“You think he could...feel you were hurt?”

“I don’t know,” Kanan answers honestly. He situates himself against the pillows, pulling his hair free and shaking it loose. He pulls his arm against her and she fits back against him, thoughtful. 

He sighs. “I’ll ask Depa to come over. We can talk to her about it.”

She nods, satisfied. “Good idea.”

They sit in silence for a moment before he huffs a small laugh against her neck. She turns in his arms to face him, reaching up to scratch a hand through his hair. It’s texture has always fascinated her, soft like silk. Maybe that’s why Ezra is always so fixated by it. Kanan brings a hand up to cup her face and smiles. 

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“You,” he says smiling at her like a sap. “Always looking out for us.”

She leans towards and presses a kiss to his mouth. “We’re a team,” she says. “Even if I’m the only non-Force sensitive around here.”

“You’re always one step ahead of me,” Kanan says.

“Somebody has to be.” Content, she folds against his chest and he brings up his arms to envelop her. She cracks one eye open at him. “You take the first shift tonight,” she yawns and feels rather than hears him chuckle, soft as it is. 

“Yes ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me on twitter about rebels @gracedbybattle


End file.
